


you're so good to me

by orphan_account



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: AS IN THEY ARE BRITISH, Anxiety, Set in London, THEY ARE LIVING IN LONDON, british!seungyul, hangyul & seungyoun are just really really close bffs, hangyul loves Seungyoun's hands, platonic, soft, they are simply korean people that were born and raised in london, they do not live in korea, very very soft, wang yibo mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:49:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22051330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: hangyul will forever be grateful for his best friend seungyoun, and he needs to let him knowprompt number #200
Relationships: Cho Seungyoun | Seungyoun/Lee Hangyul | Hangyul - platonic
Kudos: 31
Collections: Midnight Stories 2019 Fanfic Collection





	you're so good to me

To hangyul, seungyoun is the epitome of all things soft.  
jagged, hard, pointed, dangerous; all things that just don’t apply when it comes to him, can’t apply.  
seungyoun is gentle, and loving, and tender and warm and hangyul oftentimes imagines what it’s like to _be_ him. he wonders if seungyoun sees himself in the same light.

_“good people don’t believe they’re good til they’re told a thousand times over that they are”_

-

Seungyoun’s gaze that never leaves Hangyuls face until he’s sure he’s okay is soft

“You’re staring at me” Hangyul quietly muses, tiredness pulling at his eyelids.

It was an hour ago that he had initially called Seungyoun, sobbing incoherent words down the phone with some sort of desperation in his voice, begging his best friend to _please, please get here i need you_. Of course Seungyoun had thrown himself out of bed the second he heard the crying - it was only a matter of time before he was dressed again - and sprinted out the door.  
His distress during the journey meant he’d had to forgo everything that wasn’t absolutely needed, to save time and get to Hangyul quicker.

This however _did_ mean Seungyoun was sprinting the five minute walk to Hangyul’s flat in under 60 seconds in the rain without shoes, glasses, or a coat.  
None of that had mattered, in the moment, Seungyoun could be soaked through to the bone with bruised feet using only the street lights to guide him if it meant hangyul would be okay.

“I just want to make sure you get to sleep okay” Seungyoun replies quietly, dry now in one of Hangyul’s pyjama sets. He’d taken some spare contact lenses from Hangyul’s medicine cupboard, now properly able to see two feet in front of him; properly able to see Hangyul.

“I’ll be fine”

Even like this, even when he’s down and hurting and in need of care, Hangyul is always more focused on keeping others happy. It’s both a blessing and a curse, Seungyoun thinks.  
Despite him opening the door to his flat in tears and laboured breathing, the first thing Hangyul asked was if _Seungyoun_ was okay. He wanted to bandage up the older mans feet and give him warm clothes the second he saw him, and he would’ve had Seungyoun not taken Hangyul’s head in his hands, looked him straight in the eyes and told him he was the priority. He would always be the priority.

“That’s not enough to convince me”

He knows Hangyuls not truly fine from the way his index finger traces the lines against Seungyoun’s palm. He moves it up and down, over the curve of the base of his thumb, up the slope of his heart line and lowly up to each fingertip and back down again, the cycle repeating endlessly. Hands serve a sense of calm to Hangyul, Seungyoun’s most of all. He likes how much they can do; he likes that he can hold them and they can hold him back, he likes that you can adorn them with pretty rings and nail polish and tattoos and henna, he likes the way they feel when they’re well taken care of and soft like Seungyoun’s are. When Hangyul gently traces other people’s hands like this it means he’s either just deep in thought and doing it absent mindedly, or he’s looking for a distraction like he is most of the time, something to calm him down.  
Seungyoun is always the one to give it to him.

“You enjoying that?” he mutters teasingly, smiling at the blush that rises on Hangyuls cheeks.

“It helps”

“Glad i can be of assistance”

“You always are”

 _You always are_  
Hangyuls never realised how much he helps seungyoun as well, how his smile and his hugs and his laugh and his little anecdotes he texts Seungyoun curiously about at 3 am  
Seungyoun only accepted the warm clothes first so that he could hold Hangyul properly without getting the younger boy sick. His feet are still battered, bruised, bleeding slightly from the run here, but he doesn’t bring it up; he’ll deal with it later, when he can. For now he just keeps them dangling off the bed, saving ruining Hangyul’s sheets.

There’s a short lived silence, where Seungyoun takes to gently carding his fingers through Hangyul’s hair. The air is warm, the subtle glow of Hangyul’s nightlight illuminating the pair on the bed in the center of the room. They’re most comfortable like this; most comfortable when they’re together.

“Will you tell me why it happened, gyul?”

Seungyoun often asks this when he helps Hangyul. First, though, he makes sure Hangyul’s completely better and comfortable, resting as much as he can and in the right mindset to take the question on.  
Not to say he always answers, though, and that’s respected. Hangyul could keep to himself as much as he wanted and Seungyoun would never leave him.

“Maybe” He mumbles into the blanket, eyes finally drawing closed. Seungyoun smiles at that; he usually gets a shake of the head in response or a fresh wave of tears if it was really that bad, plus hangyul often forces himself to stay awake as long as Seungyoun’s there. Now it feels like he’s finally comfortable enough around his best friend to let go.

It feels incredible to be trusted, Seungyoun happily discovers.

“If you decide to, you know I’ll always be waiting” 

Hangyul nods slowly, eyes still closed, the last sign of him still hearing Seungyoun.

“Love you, gyul”

  
There’s only a light snore from Hangyul’s end, but honestly it doesn’t matter; he’s resting, albeit it’s only because he’s given in and let himself fall victim to the post-panic exhaustion, but he’s still resting.  
Admittedly Seungyoun feels some kind of hurt watching Hangyul sleep, knowing it’s not because he wants to. He may have been fine just before he drifted, may have given Seungyoun his classic little grin to reassure him, but there are still tear tracks staining his cheeks, his eyes were still bloodshot before he closed them, there are still little crescent marks on his palms from where he pressed his nails into them.  
Seungyoun always feels for Hangyul.

“Sleep tight”

He distracts himself, placing a kiss to the younger boys forehead, focusing on the good things instead.  
_He’ll be okay, he’s strong, he’s gotten through this before he can do it again_  
Sliding off the bed carefully so as not to wake Hangyul, Seungyoun tiptoes towards the bedroom door; his feet still burn from the injuries.  
He turns to glance at Hangyul, making sure he stayed asleep, before flipping off the big light and walking out the door.

It all catches up to him when his feet hit the cold tiles of Hangyul’s bathroom floor.  
Seungyoun hisses in agony, his own tears threatening to spill as he falls to his knees. Hangyul is always the first person that needs help, to him; it’s not a thing of pity or victimisation, seungyoun just believes he has his priorities straight.  
He never stops to think about himself, though.

He takes a minute to get his breathing back to normal after the spike of pain through his feet, head resting against the cool edge of the bathtub. Wandering eyes follow a speck of dust through the air and Seungyoun takes a deep breath, focusing on what he can see instead of the pain.  
He can see Hangyuls special shampoo for chemically treated hair (seungyoun had dyed it for him), he can see the moomin towel hanging neatly beside it’s matching washcloth, he can see Hangyul’s rose scented hand soap and violet moisturising cream, he sees all the unique little things that make Hangyul _H_ _angyul_.  
It calms him down instantly.

Then he’s able to pull himself back up by the edge of the sink, leaning his full weight on it to keep the pressure off his feet. Seungyoun reaches up into the medicine cupboard, quickly grabbing the plasters, antiseptic, and gauze.  
He collapses onto the closed toilet seat beside him, taking another short breather, before lifting his left foot to cross over his right knee.

“Jesus” a sharp inhale sounds throughout the quiet bathroom as Seungyoun takes in the extent of the damage. There’s a small gash under his big toe, undoubtedly the one causing him the most pain, just above a littering of smaller abrasions. He’s trying so hard to be quiet so he won’t wake Hangyul sleeping across the hall he has to shove the moomin washcloth between his teeth and bite down, hard.  
His eyes start to well up as he wipes damp tissue over the wounds, and tears spill over when he applies antiseptic to each one, quickly pressing plasters and bandages to get it over with.

Once everything’s done; both feet are treated and easier to walk on, Seungyoun returns the cloth to it’s usual spot on the hanger, ignoring the ache in his teeth from biting.  
Ever quieter now on padded feet he returns to Hangyul’s room, feeling his way in the dark back to the bed.  
He’s sure Hangyul’s sleeping soundly; he was positively passed out almost the second he closed his eyes. Honestly Seungyoun wonders how anyone _wouldn’t_ be fast asleep after seeing what Hangyul had been through that night.  
It was brutal, to put it simply, the attack had drawn the breath from out of his lungs and forced him to go mute with it’s evil grip around his throat, and Seungyoun hated watching it, hated it more than anything.  
But he’d never leave Hangyul.

So he crawls back under the covers, laying his head beside his best friend’s and momentarily inspecting his face. He always envied Hangyul for looking good even in sleep.

“Night, gyulie”

He closed his eyes, not expecting any reply and instead already drifting off.

“You’re so good, youn”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been so good to me today,” Hangyul sleepily mumbles “thank you, you can rest now”

“Hangyul-”

The younger boy just quieted Seungyoun with a finger to his lips and a gentle smile, signalling there was nothing he needed to say. They both closed their eyes, falling into sleep together this time.

Hangyuls hand made it’s way over to Seungyoun’s, intertwining their fingers lazily.  
Seungyoun smiles one last time, letting sleep then envelop him.

-

The skin that stretches over the cheeks Hangyul loves to squeeze is soft, too.

“Where should we go next?” Seungyoun sticks his forkful of waffle in his mouth after asking, eyebrows knotting curiously when he sees Hangyul chuckling.

He whines through the mouthful, kicking at the younger boys shin playfully. Hangyul just keeps giggling away, still not giving up what’s making him laugh so much.

“Oi! What are you laughing at?” Seungyoun swallows and stands from the wall he’d been sat on, hunching his shoulders indignantly.

“You look like a squirrel when you do that”

“Do what?!”

“Stuff your face like that, it’s cute” Hangyul points out, pinching Seungyoun’s nose affectionately and dodging away when the older swats at him with a loose glove.

It’s the day before christmas eve (christmas eve eve as Hangyul sensibly calls it, christmas adam as Seungyoun stupidly calls it) and the duo decided to head out to do some stocking filler shopping. They’ve already bought each other all the big gifts from their meticulously written lists, now it was just the little things they open over breakfast they had to buy.  
It's a tradition they’ve held up as best friends since their teenage years; they reserve christmas eve specially for each other without fail. They make sure one shows up to the others house in pyjamas - a must for optimum comfort - with their stocking and presents in hand, then the host puts the kettle on for some tea and the guest is always the one who neatly arranges four hot cross buns on a tray to go into the oven. They open the tiny little jokeshop gifts during breakfast, the bigger ones after they finish eating. Sometimes they’ll watch a shitty christmas film too later on in the day, other times they’ll play a board game that lasts for hours and usually ends in faux anger and pieces all over the floor.  
It’s Hangyuls favourite holiday by a long shot, and Seungyoun is unashamed to say that he enjoys christmas eve with Hangyul more than christmas day with his family.

“Right after I give you a good whack we’re gonna decide which shop to go into next”

Hangyul laughs again at that statement.  
It had come out half heartedly and from a grinning mouth nonetheless; the plastic fork pointed at Hangyul’s head is an empty threat. Seungyoun wouldn’t dare maliciously lay a hand on him.

“Go on then, hit me” The younger boy turns his cheek towards seungyoun, an open invitation.

“I could never” Seungyoun says, voice as sweet as pie as he opts to press a finger to Hangyul’s cheek instead, never getting tired of the plush feeling.

“Gross”

None of these words or threats the boys throw at each other that most other people would take offense to ever get to them. The analogy Hangyul likes to use is that anything that’s actually hurtful that could be said to either of them (jokes about Hangyul’s anxiety, mocking Seungyoun’s appearance, evil things like that) would sink like rocks straight to their self conscience, whereas little irrelevant things like playful banter and teasing were so small and insignificant they floated on the surface, easy to wash away and forget about.  
That’s why they work so well together; they can have fun and laugh and make jokes, but there’s always been a line neither of them have crossed or will ever cross.

Their chemistry is unmatched.

“I’ve got it!”

“Huh?” 

“I’ll finish this, then we can go to lush!” Seungyoun refers to the waffle Hangyul bought him from the street food truck a half hour ago. He’d spent most of his time with it thanking Hangyul profusely and admiring how pretty the cream rosette on top was, insisting he buy Hangyul one too.  
The shorter boy simply refused, telling him seeing Seungyoun enjoy a treat was more than enough to keep him happy.  
He’d eventually gotten him to start eating it by saying the only way buying him that would make him happy would be if he 

_“Ate the damn waffle, youn, it’s fine”_

Seungyoun made his best friend take some bites, though, just so he felt even.

“Oh my god i forgot about lush! I love that shop!”

Seungyoun nods, stuffing the last strawberry and section of bread into his mouth before throwing the container into the bin.  
As they make their way through oxford street, weaving through crowds of people on similar last minute christmas shops, Seungyoun feels a slight grip on the sleeve of his coat padding. He knows what’s up before he’s even said a word to.  
He smoothly slides his hand up to lock with Hangyuls, their fingers linking together and tension held in the youngers fists dropping. Seungyoun parts their hands slightly, feeling around Hangyuls’s palm with his thumb until he finds the familiar crescent indents. He starts a gentle rubbing motion across the four scores.  
Both of them opt not to speak, only focused on getting out of the crowd and finding Lush.

Hangyul spots it before Seungyoun does, tugging on his hand and nodding his head in the direction of the black and white shop entrance.  
Seungyoun quickly leads them towards it, feeling how Hangyuls grip loosens in his relaxation, and he breathes a huge sigh of relief.

“Still hate crowds, huh?”

Seungyoun’s always the one to lighten up a situation, he can never fail to do so, in Hangyul’s eyes, and right now it’s no different. Hangyul smiles gratefully up to Seungyoun, nudging him with his elbow as a silent thanks.

“Now, let’s split up and look for presents”

The splitting up is _obviously_ mandatory - if they shopped together the christmas surprise would be ruined, and nobody likes a ruined surprise.

“Meet back here when we’re done?”

“Deal” 

And the two go their separate ways, Seungyoun to the left, Hangyul to the right, in search of the perfect little gifts.

They know each other well enough to gauge exactly what to go for.  
They’ve been friends since Hangyul was a shy little year seven, Seungyoun a bold and playful year eight, and they’ve been inseparable since. Seungyoun had chucked his muffin at a kid from his year who was winding Hangyul up, long story short.  
Before that Seungyoun’s friends were all just like him; thought they were tough, too big for their boots at the worst of times, he wasn’t proud of it, but they were all he had. During those times there was no one to take care of him, because as you can expect a bunch of year 8 boys with superiority complexes wouldn’t really take to affection the right way.

_“Get off me bruv are you gay or sumfing?!”_

Seungyoun doesn’t like remembering those days.  
The one memory he does keep with him is when he’d spotted Hangyul, tiny in comparison to the older boy towering above him and shaking visibly in fear.  
He hadn’t known what it was like to be bullied, he was Cho Seungyoun, he never had any trouble, but something about the helplessness in Hangyuls eyes had given him a pretty clear idea of the experience.  
He’d acted completely on impulse, grabbing the muffin he hadn’t really wanted and immediately walking over to Hangyuls table.

_“Oi, conor, get away from him”_

_“Nah nah allow it he’s my young g you know”_

Seungyoun hadn’t believed him for a second. He smashed the muffin into this conor boy’s face, and within seconds he’d grabbed hangyul’s arm and told him to run.  
Since then they’ve been _the_ pair, Hangyul and Seungyoun, those two Korean boys in school who never left each other’s sides, everyone knew them.  
They knew each other most of all.  
Seungyoun knows Hangyul like the back of his hand and vice versa, they know things about each other not even their families know.  
They’re a different kind of family to each other, i guess.

“Hi! Can i help you with anything?”

  
Seungyoun is pulled from his train of thought by a bright staff member with reindeer antlers smiling at him. He never did get why they’re so cheerful all the time in this shop.

“Oh, uhm, i’m just looking for some stocking fillers for my friend” He replies, not liking having to refer to Hangyul as just ‘my friend’. He feels like adding ‘best’ onto it would sound weird, though.

“What does he like?”

Seungyoun thinks for a moment. Aside from hands and seungyoun and seungyoun’s hands, there’s only one other thing that helps calm Hangyul down.

“He likes bath stuff”

When the water’s warm enough to keep him distracted is his favourite.  
He likes it when it’s dark in the bathroom and there’s soft music playing, it desensitises him when things get too much or too overwhelming. A soft, easy smelling bathbomb is a guilty pleasure of his, and it’s always Seungyoun that buys them for him.

“Bombs”

Seungyoun hadn’t meant to say that out loud, or forget to say the word bath, and the employee looks at him like he’s slightly off his rocker, but offers something.

“Bath bombs?”

“Yes, yes bath bombs, sorry, haha, slip of the tongue”

“No worries, does he have a favourite scent?”

  
The woman leads Seungyoun over to the bath bomb section as they discuss Hangyuls tastes.  
Meanwhile, speaking of Hangyul, the younger boy is happily browsing skincare items, unbothered by any staff as he’s politely rejected each one to minimize unwanted interaction.

Hangyul likes Seungyoun’s skin.  
He’s kind of jealous of it; seungyoun has smooth, unblemished skin and moisturises his face daily, it almost glows in the right lighting.  
He likes to touch Seungyoun’s skin, rub up and down his arms when they’re watching a movie, swipe his thumbs over his cheeks as they cuddle, and of course leave feather touches to the front and back of his hands absent mindedly when they’re doing whatever. He likes it especially when Seungyoun smells good too.  
He always does.

“Strawberry” 

Hangyul quietly mutters to himself, knowing how much both him and Seungyoun like the smell of the fruit. It’s sweet, refreshing, fun just like Seungyoun.  
Picking up a face mask in the scent, Hangyul smiles to himself, satisfied.

Ten minutes later, both boys are in the queue, separated by a group of teenage girls probably also buying for each other. Hangyul had picked up a lip scrub and a bar of soap, too, all in strawberry. Excitement of seeing Seungyoun open them was already setting in.

Seungyoun, three girls away from his best friend, is holding three items as well. The first one is a bath bomb called ‘big blue’; the description says it’s like having a day at the seaside in a bath, and has special oils in it to help you relax, he’d picked it up straight away. Secondly is a bubble bar called ‘the comforter’; just the name alone drew Seungyoun to it, yet when he found out it was also berry scented he immediately picked it up. Finally, was a shampoo called ‘honey i washed my hair’; he knows how self conscious Hangyul is about his hair and the way it feels, and the honey in the shampoo is apparently going to add softness and a nice smell, so Seungyoun felt obliged.  
Another thing, the stupid names always made them both laugh, and they used to have comptetitions over who could find the weirdest name in the shop that would end up in peals of laughter and quite angry staff members asking them to leave.  
Seungyoun smiles fondly at the memory.

“Next” 

They both pay, hiding each other’s gifts expertly from any prying eyes trying to sneak a peak, and place them into their backpacks before rejoining outside the shop.  
It’s dark now.  
Winter’s like that, Seungyoun always muses whenever Hangyul complains about it being daylight one moment and nighttime the next.

“Oxford street at night is so pretty, look at the lights, youn” they’ve both lived in london all their lives; Hangyul from brixton, Seungyoun streatham, but the way the city looks lit up by festive lights and decorations never fails to get to them.  
It’s beautiful.

“It’s lovely this time of year”

They watch the lights flash for a few seconds, basking in the cool evening air and each others’ presence.

“We should get on the tube before rush hour hits,” Seungyoun mumbles, suddenly quiet, adjusting his bag on his back. Hangyul raises an eyebrow quizzically; his best friend’s never usually the one for rushing.

“Why? Are we in a hurry?”

Seungyoun looks away for a moment, almost seeming embarrassed, before raising his head again.

“No, i just want you to be able to rest a bit on the journey, it’s been a long day”

  
Hangyul takes a moment to process it, staring at Seungyoun like he hung all the stars in the sky.  
He was really trying to run onto the tube, just so they could get seats for the way so Hangyul rest his head on Seungyoun’s shoulder.

“Oh you sweet boy”

Seungyoun blushes, shoving Hangyul lightly.  
The younger boy laughs, his teeth on full show and his head thrown back, eyes sparkling under the christmas lights.  
He leans in, grabbing Seungyoun’s cheeks in his hands and touching their foreheads together.

“You sweet, sweet thing Cho Seungyoun you’re so good”

Hangyul hugs him properly this time, arms squeezing the life from Seungyoun’s lungs but the love felt all the same.

“Gyul-”

  
“So good to me”

  
Seungyoun accepts the praise, wrapping his own arms around his best friend.

“What would i do without you?”

-

The voice that Hangyul would spend years listening to singing, rapping or even just talking, its soft as well.

“I have so much work to do today” Seungyoun groans, head hanging off the foot of the couch and his feet resting on the back of it.

“Then do it” Hangyul replies, faux disinterest laced in his tone. It’s fake, because Hangyul could never not be interested in Seungyoun’s work, because Seungyoun’s work means his music, and that’s one thing of many about his best friend that Hangyul will never tire of.  
He loves listening to the songs he makes (especially the ones he made for Hangyul), and he loves it a thousand times more when Seungyoun sings them just for him, his voice just right and soulful.  
Hangyul adores his best friend’s singing voice more than anything.

“But i don’t _want_ to, is the thing”

Hangyul dog ears the page of his book - it’s good, but not as important as Seungyoun - and sets it down on the coffee table. His gaze trails around the room and finally settles on the lazy man himself upside down on the couch, whining about working like a little kid.  
It’s endearing, he finds.

“When do you want the new song to be finished?”

“I told myself I’d have it done and downloaded by friday”

“Youn, it’s thursday,” Hangyul shakes his head fondly at this, standing from his armchair in favour of joining his best friend; the right way up however “how much have you done?”

  
Seungyouns head turns in Hangyul’s direction, the look in his eyes says worried, and the low groan erupting from his throat says the same. Hangyul worriedly places a hand on his stomach, patting gently at the chub.

“How much?”

“Most of it!”

“ _Seungyoun_ ” Hangyul chides sternly, knowing the older boy isn’t giving up all the information.

“I’ve finished with the beat! All the music part of it is done, i promise you.” Seungyoun flips round properly now, swinging his legs down from their previous position and sitting cross legged on one couch cushion, eyes filled with sincerity locked with Hangyuls.

“What about the vocal part?”

There’s a tense silence, cluing Hangyul into what’s missing.  
The look on Seungyoun’s face says it all.

“You’ve not recorded any vocals?! _Any_?!” 

“Okay, listen, I should’ve asked this way sooner, but,” He takes a deep breath, pulling Hangyuls hand into his lap. “Gyul, I want you to sing for me”

All of a sudden Hangyul’s absolutely speechless, blinking dumbly into space as Seungyoun stares at him, gaze expectant.  
It’s not like he doesn’t _want_ to sing for him (he’d do anything if it was for Seungyoun) but he’s so surprised that Seungyoun even _remembers_ hearing Hangyul sing, let alone has enough faith in that one encounter eight years ago to ask him such a huge favour.

See, Hangyul was never the musical type. He listened to it, he admired artists and appreciated the beats and the rhythm, but it never really touched his soul the way it did Seungyoun’s. In music lessons from year seven to nine he’d simply sit in his corner playing around with the DJ button on the cheap school keyboard he had in front of him, mopey that he didn’t get to be in the same classes with Seungyoun. The concept of having to sit there, know what every button and dial and switch did, then put it to actual use and make something that sounded good all at the same time really put him off, honestly.  
He was more of a performer; Dancing was his spark.  
With dancing there wasn’t any buttons or multitasking, it was always just Hangyul’s mind and his body, working together to create something beautiful. See, simple, dancing was better. He felt good when he danced; despite the aches and the strains and the pain, he would always manage to pull through, he would always end up triumphant.  
Dance made him feel strong.

Yet when he reached year 11, Seungyoun his first year of sixth form, he found out he could do something else, something other than dancing.  
Lee Hangyul could actually, properly, _sing_.  
Before then he’d never actually attempted to, swearing off making music meant he didn’t ever feel the _need_ to, but he did, one day.

_Younie: i need a full demo song by tomorrow for my music coursework, but problem is i got a cold and can’t record the vocals_

Seungyoun had texted him one morning before school, telling Hangyul to come over the road to the sixth form block at lunch and he’d let him into the music room if he wanted to help. Of course Hangyul said yes without a second thought.

“The demo? You want me to record the demo?” Hangyul will admit he’s a little out of it, that day flooding back to his memories.

“What? No, this is the real thing, and I want you to be a part of it”

He remembers when Seungyoun first put him in front of the mic, handed him the sheet with his lines on it, feeling the pressure from the eyes of their school’s profound musical prodigy.

_“Don’t look so afraid, i’m not some judgy producer, i’m just seungyoun, you know me”_

He was right, he did know Seungyoun, and trusted him at that; so Hangyul swallowed his saliva and let the tension in his shoulders fall, leaning into the mic.   
By the time he sang the second line from the paper in his hands, Seungyoun’s jaw had already dropped.

“I know you can sing, it may have been a while since you last did, but people don’t just lose raw talent like that. You were born with this ability”

Hangyul’s back in the room now, Seungyoun’s fingertips rubbing his knee gently, knowing it’s something that grounds him. He thinks about it, lowering his gaze to his lap.

“Youn?”

“Yeah?”

  
“I’ll do it”

The way Seungyoun’s eyes light up at the agreement makes Hangyul wonder why he even had to think about it in the first place; seeing him happy is the only thing that matters.  
Seungyoun jumps up from the couch, latching onto Hangyul’s shirtsleeve and pulling him along, headed eagerly for his shoes placed neatly by the door.  
They don’t say anything, but suddenly Seungyoun had a new drive for working, no longer whining or unmotivated.  
Hangyul smiles to himself; he had become the motivation Seungyoun was lacking.

“Go on then, shoes on, we don’t have time to waste!”

  
Seungyoun’s out the door faster than Hangyul can reply, pocketing the keys to Hangyul’s car on his way out.

“I’m driving!”

An involuntary smile spreads across the younger boys face as he watches his best friend fumble about with the keys, hopping up and down on the spot in pure excitement; ever the loveable Cho Seungyoun.

“Wait for me!”

  
Hangyul calls out to him, grabbing both of their jackets and his rucksack on his way out the door.

“You’re that excited huh?”

  
Seungyoun nods rapidly, watching Hangyul barely climb into the passenger seat beside him before revving up the engine, driving a little too quickly to be deemed safe.

His studio is a too far away to walk on foot, a ten minute drive if they’re going a normal speed, and is located on a road called valentia place in a tucked away complex of random studios people can rent or buy for whatever (Seungyoun bought his after saving up for years, Hangyul paid for him to rent it every month until he had saved enough). It’s one of his favourite places to be; the soundboards set up on their own tables around Seungyoun’s huge monitor and keyboard, colour-changing LEDs that spell out ‘woodz’ - his special producer name - placed above them. There’s a small booth made out of clear plastic and recycled freight containers on the far right with a microphone stand in the centre of it; that’s where Seungyoun records the vocals to his songs. At the back there’s a couch, worn down from all the times Seungyoun’s pulled all nighters in his studio and fallen asleep there (he keeps a pillow that Hangyul embroidered on it at all times).  
There’s not much else there, really, it was all he could afford to get the rest of it, but finally there’s his display case, his pride and joy.  
All the cds he’s made and artists he’s produced for and albums he’s spent months on but never actually released sit there now, preserved behind glass for him to admire when he’s low on seratonin. There’s a small trophy sitting center of the top shelf, as well; it’s made of gold metallic plastic and says ‘worlds greatest music-man’ on a little plaque at the bottom.  
It’s not very hard to guess who bought him that.

“Woah, hey, wait, _Seungyoun_ -”

Hangyul panics a little as Seungyoun doesn’t even bother to stop the car properly, only letting it slow down a bit before he throws his door open and jumps out, sprinting with endless bounds of energy towards the steps leading up to his studio. Still slightly shaken up, Hangyul quickly presses his foot to the brake and yanks the key out of the ignition, making sure they’re not parked over any yellow lines before following Seungyoun’s path towards the stairs.

“Okay, so I have this idea for you to do some harmonies with me, and then you’ll sing the little line before the drop, you know the catchy part, the ‘우린 너무 달라, we're so different’, you know that part, and-” there’s two hands grasping at Seungyoun’s biceps, squeezing gently to make him focus.  
He’s going so fast Hangyul’s worried he might burn out and panic too early on.

“Youn, one step at a time, okay?”

For a brief second he looks like he’s about to break off into his shpiel again, but then his eyes soften, and he’s left to obey a concerned Hangyul’s fixed gaze. Seungyoun’s shoulders drop and his head falls, a deep exhale sounding it’s way throughout the room.

“Okay, so where do we start?”

Hangyul’s instructed to go inside the booth, just to get used to the feeling of being in front of a mic again, before Seungyoun passes him his lyricbook with his lines highlighted neatly in pink.  
Small notes in Seungyoun’s lopsided speedwriting beside each line let him know how to sing each word, how high or how low, how quiet or how loud.  
Hangyul will always admire his attention to detail.

“I want you to try singing, just a little bit, it won’t be recorded i just need a little reminder of your tone and how stable you are” The same nerves, the sweaty panicky ones, he felt that one time in year eleven suddenly begin making their way up from his gut.

_I can’t sing in front of Seungyoun, he’s, he’s a musical genius!_

“Don’t think like that”

_And a mind reader too?_

“I know you’re afraid because music is my passion, but please, don’t be, you’re safe with me”

Hangyul always feels safe with Seungyoun.  
Yet Seungyoun’s outside right now. Hangyul’s trapped in this little cramped box that’s retaining too much heat and he thinks if he stretched his arms out fully he wouldn’t be able to fit and-  
He looks up for a brief moment, knowing if he dwells on it any longer then this is the moment his eyes will start to turn blurry. A glimpse of Seungyoun’s reassuring eyes, his gentle smile, and suddenly Hangyul’s heads a little less fuzzy.

“Do you want me to go first?”

  
His voice is so soft, so calming and it’s always been an incredible realisation for Hangyul each and every time that Seungyoun can always tell when he’s overwhelmed; he claims he can see it in his eyes and the way he starts to press the pads of his thumbs into his palms.  
Some people say they know too much about each other (some people is Seungyoun’s only other friend; a guy who runs the studio complex named yibo), but the pair just believe it’s healthy to understand your best friend’s limits. They think they’re doing just fine.

Hangyul shakily pushes open the door to the booth, already relieved to be in a bigger space as Seungyoun approaches the door instead. He goes to sit in the producer’s recording chair, legs trembling, when he feels soft, delicate fingers grab onto his own.

“Hey”

  
Seungyoun quietly mumbles, grabbing Hangyul’s attention so he spins around to face him.  
A silent offer comes next; Seungyoun’s hand presented to him like a gift, both of them knowing immediately he’s trying to calm him down.  
It works.

Hangyul takes the hand in his, pressure immediately eloping his mind once he feels the soft ridges in each finger, runs his thumb over the dip in the center of the palm; he’s mesmerised, almost. He is every time.

“Thank you for being so good, youn”

They both pretend not to notice Seungyoun’s eyes welling up at the phrase his best friend always uses when he helps him. Hangyul’s never given up why he says that all the time, why specifically he uses those words, but it’s intentions and meaning is always felt every time.  
They’re so grateful for their friendship.

“You’re so good to me”

Grateful for each other

-

And ultimately, the Hands that Hangyul can never get enough of are the softest, by a long shot.

It kicked off pretty late into their friendship, sometime around Seungyoun going into university and Hangyul tackling his a-levels, Hangyul’s anxiety did, and before he had a proper diagnosis he felt lost.  
In all the years leading up to then it was only nights spent staring up at the ceiling with burning eyes because the thought that if he fell asleep he might not wake up was eating away at him, five hour phonecalls with Seungyoun filled with tears and laboured breaths the day before a big exam, headaches, tension, sweating, overthinking and all of that whilst never _really knowing_ what was wrong.  
It was Seungyoun who had made him go see a doctor.

_“Please, gyul, i hate seeing you like this, i hate seeing you suffer”_

If Hangyul had anything his way he would’ve left it, not wanting to bother anyone with his own problems, but he didn’t have it his way; he couldn’t possibly when Seungyoun was involved.  
It’s a well known fact by now that Hangyul would do anything for Seungyoun, he’s been like that since they first met, he’s a people pleaser.  
He doesn’t seem to take into account that to make other people(Seungyoun) happy, he has to be happy himself first.

“Are you okay?” seungyoun asks suddenly, jerking Hangyul back out of his memories.

“Yeah, why?”

  
“My hands, you’re touching my hands”

Hangyul looks down for a second, noticing the way his fingertips are loosely rested atop the back of Seungyoun’s hand. He smiles fleetingly, sparkling eyes travelling up to meet Seungyoun’s.  
The older boy looks worried, so ready to care for Hangyul if he needs it.

“It’s nothing bad, i promise, I guess i just got lost in thought”

A warmth settles in Seungyoun’s heart now, joy spreading through his cheeks once he realises Hangyul’s okay.  
_Hangyul’s okay._  
It’s a phrase he’s been telling himself ever since the diagnosis, used especially when the younger boy hits big milestones like this, to reassure himself.  
He’s strong, he’ll get through this  
It’s the truth.  
Each and every day Hangyul’s growing more and more right in front of Seungyoun’s eyes.  
He can talk to cashiers now, buses aren’t as daunting as they used to be, he even went to the library on his own last month, and every time he smashes one landmark in his life Seungyoun’s always there to hold him, to tell him how proud he is and how much he deserves it.  
He makes Hangyul feel special.

“So you’re alright?”

  
And now the thought of Hangyul circling the veins on the back of Seungyoun’s hands not because he needs something to calm him down, but just because he’s zoned out and started doing it unconsciously brings such huge amounts of happiness to the older boy one can’t even imagine.

“Yeah” 

“You just love my hands that much?”

The infectious happy virus reaches Hangyul, and he laughs, swatting Seungyoun’s hand away from him now to prove his point. The realisation of his milestone being hit hasn’t really settled in yet; it gives them time to enjoy a banterous moment.  
Seungyoun grabs the younger boys hand, placing it back where it belongs, the fingers that fit so perfectly with Hangyul’s intertwined with the latter’s.

“Maybe i was just doing it unconsciously” Hangyul retorts, sitting up properly on his bed to be face to face with Seungyoun. The older boy grins, wiggling his eyebrows before shooting his comeback.

“You’re just too shy to admit you think my hands feel nice” 

Hangyul whines at that, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration because if he’s being completely honest, he really can’t argue with that.  
Seungyoun’s hands feel amazing.

“Okay so what they’re soft, and smell nice, and they’re really cute and small and well taken care of”

Slightly shocked for a second, Seungyoun then takes it the look on Hangyul’s face that screams ‘i did _not_ mean to say that out loud’ before throwing his head back in utter euphoric, blissful laughter.  
Hangyul drops his head into his hands, unable to stop the small giggle that creeps out from between his fingers as Seungyoun continues to howl in amusement in front of him

“YOU ADMIT IT” He manages to squeeze out in between wiping the tears forming in his eyes and wheezing for air. Quickly, Hangyul brings his head back up to argue, but he’s caught off guard a little.

He’s seen Seungyoun laugh countless times in the past twelve years, he’s seen him force laughter and he’s seen him unable to stop laughing for half an hour, he knows every wrinkle on his face that forms when he laughs and he could probably draw them all out from memory, but something about the way he’s laughing now is new to Hangyul.

It isn’t anything specific that he can put a finger on, but it’s definitely new.  
Maybe it’s a little bit louder, maybe a little more of his teeth are showing, Hangyul really can’t say, but he welcomes it completely.  
New ways of seeing Seungyoun happy are always welcome.

“Okay maybe i do”

  
Today feels like a indulge Seungyoun kind of day, more so than usual.

The laughter dies down, fading slowly as Seungyoun brings his eyes back down to lock with Hangyul’s.

“You do?”

Hangyul nods, fingers snaking not so subtly down to cling to his best friend’s pinkie.

“ _You’re_ soft,” Something changes in Seungyoun’s eyes when he says that “ _you_ smell nice, and _you’re_ really cute and well taken care of and you may not be small but you’re still my favourite”

It’s not a confession or anything, but it moves Seungyoun like it is one. He goes to speak, but Hangyul silences him.

“You help me when I’m hurting, you offer me everything you have and you let me do my weird hand thing on you and honestly that’s just a small part of the bigger picture. I’m so grateful for you, Cho Seungyoun, each and every day my gratitude increases by twenty because you’re just, so good, so good to me,” somewhere around the very first sentence tears had filled Seungyoun’s eyes, and now they fall down over soft lips and land with a drip onto the pair of hands laced together between them. “Why _wouldn’t_ i admit that i like your hands, it’d be stupid of me not to take the chance to show how thankful i am that you offer them to me”

Any fool from a mile away can feel the love both boys share for each other burn throughout the room.  
They may have sought out their own paths, found what to do that made them happy in Hangyuls dance and Seungyoun’s music, but deep down, they both knew they were each other’s first passions. Before the arts drew them over they each found purpose in the other one, found out that they could spend hours just talking about all the things they treasured in one another, and it was such a delicious feeling to have someone like that that neither of them ever wanted to let this bond go; so they didn’t.

They stayed strong and kept together throughout everything, only getting closer and closer as each year of them knowing each other passed by.  
They always will, always will stay as Seungyoun and Hangyul, joined by the hip.

“Hangyul-”

“You’ve done so much for me these past twelve years, we’ve done so much for each other, and to us I’d like to say thank you” with a weak chuckle Seungyoun raises both their hands like wine glasses, fake toasting “here’s to many more years together, younie”

“Here’s to it”

And they bask in the quiet that comes after it, simply admiring each other’s faces in the dimly lit room.

“Thank you for being good to me, younie”

He pulls Seungyoun forward by his forearm before he can reply, falling backwards with the older boys head rested on his chest.

“Always so good”

It’s always relaxing to be in each other’s arms.

-

“Gyulie, can i ask you something?”

  
Seungyoun pops his head over the edge of his top bunk, dangling above a bemused Hangyul.  
They’re currently staying over at Seungyoun’s place, since Hangyul had lost his house keys whilst visiting earlier and had to stay the night so they could find them in the morning.

“Fire away, spiderman”

  
The younger boy sets his phone down, bringing his hand up to rest behind his head as he gazes patiently at Seungyoun.

“Why do you always tell me im good?” The question prompts a smile out of Hangyul, and he beckons the older boy to join him in his bunk.  
Seungyouns head disappears, and slight shuffling is heard before his feet land with a thud at the bottom of the bunk bed’s ladder. He joins Hangyul, slotting in beside him under his blanket with his head on the pillow next to his.

“Do you want to know?”

“Yeah” 

“You’re a good person, younie”

Seungyoun looks, confused for a second, at Hangyul, blinking slowly, until he finally gets it.  
He remembers Hangyul’s favourite quote, one his older brother had taught him, and his heart goes all fuzzy.

“Gyuuulieeee” 

He buries his head in Hangyul’s neck, hiding his bashful smile.

“I’m just reinforcing the truth so you believe it! It’s an obligation of mine to make you see how good you are”

“I love you, Hangyul”

For a moment Hangyul doesn’t say anything back, letting it soak in. Then he kisses Seungyoun’s temple, shuffling down in the bed to get comfortable.

“I love you too, Seungyoun”

And Seungyoun feels the tell tale ghost-like fingers sneaking past the covers to grasp his hand.  
He smiles, giving the hand in his one gentle squeeze, before letting his eyes slip shut and sleep take him away.

**Author's Note:**

> “good people don’t believe they’re good til they’re told a thousand times over that they are”


End file.
